


Fall

by sheafrotherdon



Series: A Farm in Iowa 'Verse [16]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humor, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-05
Updated: 2006-10-05
Packaged: 2017-10-11 22:04:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's fall.  There are leaves.  And something of a batshit war between parental types.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall

"Shhhh," cautions John, as Finn threatens to burst into a fit of giggles for the fifth time since they both scooped up big handfuls of dry leaves near the barn. He raises both eyebrows and waggles them in a hopefully conspiratorial fashion. It doesn't exactly have the desired effect upon his son.

"Baaaffa," Finn giggles, grinning. "Stoppit! Makin' me laugh!"

John smiles slyly and gestures with his chin. With the stealth air of a special ops force, they creep closer to where Rodney stands, drinking coffee, listening to his iPod, and reflecting on something more aurally pleasing than Finn's demands for "more 'nanas pleeeease," no doubt.

He really is asking for it, John thinks.

"Ready?" John whispers, looking over his shoulder. Finn nods fervently. "One, two, three . . . "

They rush Rodney with the finesse of linebackers (albeit, in Finn's case, a linebacker not much over two feet tall and prone to falling flat on his face), tossing leaves madly, yelling like heathens. Rodney yelps and flails, headphones coming loose, coffee spilling everywhere, leaves sticking in the collar of his shirt.

" _Basta_ . . . "

John can only imagine the force of will it takes for Rodney to cut off that line of cursing before it gets good. He grins wickedly as Finn runs a wobbly ellipse around his dad, occasionally pausing to pick up the leaves again and throw them around.

"Hi," John offers, two seconds from laughing maniacally.

Rodney fixes him with a glare, seemingly oblivious to the demon-by-way-of-small-boy trying to attack his pants with maple leaves. "You are evil, horrible, miserable excuse for a man."

John bites the inside of his cheek. "Mmmhmmm?"

Rodney narrows his eyes, and – lightning fast – bends to scoop Finn up, weathering his shrieks of glee. "Time to get your Baffa back," Rodney stage whispers, and Finn's eyes light up.

"YES. BAFFA."

"Know where the rabbits poop?" Rodney asks him.

"Hey!" John puts in, laughing and extending a hand in protest.

"We're gonna stick rabbit poop down his shirt," Rodney says to Finn, who looks like it's the best idea he's ever heard.

"POOP," he hollers, squirming in Rodney's arms until his father obligingly sets him down.

"Go!" Rodney yells.

And so begins the mad chase around the farmhouse that causes Mrs. Gunderson (passing by in her 1986 Plymouth Acclaim) to conclude that the family Sheppard / McKay has finally lost it. "Not a moment too soon," she mumbles to herself as shrieks of laughter float up from the hollow, and drives home with a grin on her face.

(By the following Sunday it's rumored she's $27 richer, having won the Ladies' Knitting Circle pool on when the Fathers of Finn would crack. When asked for comment, she merely smiles enigmatically, but no one fails to note that she fishes Belgian chocolate out of her purse during Sunday services, her usual M&Ms having been retired for the duration of her smugly satisfied glee).


End file.
